


Mother's Day

by pragmatist



Series: The Daddy Darcy Diaries [2]
Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Gen, Mother's Day, daddy!Darcy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pragmatist/pseuds/pragmatist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William Darcy struggles to find just the right Mother's Day gift for Lizzie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother's Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All you mommies out there!](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=All+you+mommies+out+there%21).



> So, I'm a nerd, and I jotted out a little events timeline for (most of) my set-in-the-future fics. 
> 
> In my head (which very likely differs from your head canon), LB/WD marry in late 2015, have Annie in Fall 2017 and Will in Fall 2020. 
> 
> According to MY schedule, this fic happens on Mother's Day 2023. :)

 

 

 

This whole thing is not at all his style.  He feels out of sorts, ill-prepared, caught off-guard.  Loose ends and frayed edges have never suited William Darcy.

He prefers things to be well-ordered, even predictable.   He faces the same chaos of events every May, and, for the most part, Lizzie knows what to expect from him.  Mother’s Day means flowers and brunch, and a promise of a family outing (a way for her to celebrate their family; this year, he has scheduled two nights at Legoland).  Lizzie’s birthday means jewelry, a dinner date, and an adults-only getaway (to show her that her appreciates all her hard work and respects her need for a break from their daily bedlam). 

Predictable is a label that William wears with pride.  He does not, however, want his wife to ever label him as ‘stagnant’ or ‘boring.’  Which is the reason he is pacing in front of the bookcases in his home library at 6 a.m. on a Saturday morning.

The day before Mother’s Day. 

 

 

 

Over the past six years, he has always been able to surprise her with something – something sweet and special and unexpected – something unique to them and their children – something that brings tears to her eyes.  The first year, he had a bench made for their terrace garden – a spot for her to relax during her pregnancy.  (It now holds a place of honor in their backyard, and remains one of her favorite spots to read… on the rare occasion that she has the time to do so.) 

Last year, he had both children’s first finger-paintings transferred to and enlarged on canvas.

But, this year was different.  Despite his ever-efficient calendar, May had snuck up on him.  Perhaps it was their increasingly busy family schedule – in addition to dance class, Annie was now playing on a ‘Pipsqueaks’ soccer team, and both children were in swim lessons.  Perhaps it is because Lizzie is still in that sleepy, queasy stage of her first trimester, a time when William happily picks up more than his normal share of household duties.

Usually he has a plan.  This year, he has nothing.  Anne and Will should be awake within the hour, clamoring for their Saturday pancakes and outing with Daddy, and he knows this is his last chance to obtain that special gift for Lizzie.  It is too late to order anything, and he is disappointed at the thought that Lizzie will get something off of a shelf, something unpersonalized and grabbed hastily so that he doesn’t have to face her with empty hands tomorrow morning.

He plops down gracelessly in a chair, props his elbows on his knees and grasps the sides of his head firmly, as if squeezing the perfect idea into his head.  He leans back in the chair with a deep sigh and closes his eyes.

At moments like these, he finds himself thinking of his sister-in-law Jane; he wishes that he had even a small fraction of a percentage of her innate creativity.  He smiles when he remembers the Jane of ten years ago, with her therapeutic crafting and the inspired care packages that Lizzie showed off on her videos.

A thought niggles at the front of his brain, and William slowly sits upright, his index finger drumming a cadence on his knee as he weaves the loose threads of his thoughts together.  _Yes. Yes.  This will work._

He smiles in relief, his dilemma solved, and rummages his phone from his jeans pocket.  He is going to need some help.

He finds the number he needs, and jots out a quick text.  The person on the other end is an early bird, as work-driven as he was once upon a time, and his phone rings in response to his text message.

“What’s up, Darcy? What exactly do you need my help with?” Charlotte’s voice carries to him, crisp and more chipper than any voice should be before 7 a.m. on a weekend.  “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, there is no problem.” He hesitates, still slightly awkward asking a favor of his wife’s best friend even though she has been a constant in his life for more than a decade.  “I was simply wondering if you might have some time this afternoon, to assist me with Lizzie’s Mother’s Day gift?”

“Hmm, sounds intriguing.  Ben is traveling this week, so I was thinking of going into the office to get a jumpstart on our new campaign.  I’m certain I can find some spare time.  What do you need?”

William fills her in on his plan, and she gives the idea her blessing.  She offers some pointers, and commends him on his ingenuity.  “Lizzie’s going to love it, Darcy.  Promise.”

 

 

 

He leaves the library, and pads through the halls.  No sounds yet from Will – it is always Will who awakens first, and runs into Anne’s bed to cuddle her awake.  _Six bedrooms in this house, and they insist on sharing_ , William thinks with a smirk.

That will have to change in the fall, he muses.  Anne is already registered for kindergarten, and will start  in August.  She is going to need rest, and her own space, without a little brother cutting into her sleeping hours. 

He makes his way back to the master bedroom, and subconsciously wastes a few minutes, leaning in the doorframe, watching Lizzie as she slumbers.

 

 

 

Lizzie is struggling with the fact, the necessity, of sending their eldest off to kindergarten.  “How can she be old enough for ‘real’ school? She was _just_ a baby, William.”  Her arguments are pointless and unwarranted, and typically end in tears.

William suspects hormones, but does not dare suggest that to his wife.  He has been through this twice already, and has learned the hard way that no husband should ever accuse his hormonal pregnant wife of being hormonal. 

_(He slipped up once at the start of her second pregnancy, and spent three icy, lonely nights in the guest room.  Lizzie’s stubborn mind would have held out indefinitely, but her body betrayed her.  A wicked charley horse woke her up in the middle of the fourth night, and William could hear her whimpering from down the hall.  After he massaged the cramp from her leg – and made her promise to eat a banana every morning – she was obliged to invite him back into their marriage bed… or so she claimed, before snuggling up against his chest and falling back to sleep.)_

 

 

 

“Hey, creeper, you’re making me feel uncomfortable,” Lizzie mumbles. 

William laughs softly and approaches their bed, easing down to spoon against her.  He circles his arm around her, sliding his hand under her t-shirt to caress the small swell that hides their third child. 

“Why were you watching me sleep?” Lizzie asks thickly.  “It’s a little weird.”

“Oh, I was just thinking about the kids, our family.  You.” He kisses the vertebra that slightly juts out at the base of her neck.

“Mmm,” she replies.  “It’s quite a big year for kids in our family.  My mom is through the roof.  She is telling everyone who will listen, ‘I’m going to have five new grandbabies this year!’”  Lizzie drawls in a southern twang as she awkwardly turns over to bury her face against her husband’s button-down. 

“Five?”

“Yes; one each from Lydia, us, and GiGi, and two from Jane.  Five, right?” She shakes the grogginess from her head.  “Yeah, five.”

William bows his head and presses a kiss against Lizzie’s hair.  “Your mom really says ‘five?’  She includes GiGi’s baby in her tally?” 

“William Darcy, how long have you known my parents?” Lizzie admonishes.  “You know how much they love GiGi.  I think she calls my mom more than I do.  _Of course_ they have staked a claim in GiGi’s progeny.”

William is touched by this sentiment, moved that the Bennet family has made it so that he and his sister are no longer orphans.  As he fishes through the sludge of emotions in his mind, searches for the right words to tell Lizzie how important her family has become to him, he hears a pair of giggles nearby. 

“Hey guys,” Lizzie calls out and stretches her arm toward the small figures hovering in the doorway.  At her acknowledgement, the children run for her. 

They fly onto the bed and fight to be first to kiss Mommy.  William instinctively uses his arm as a barricade around Lizzie’s abdomen, protecting it from flying knees and elbows and feet.  Lizzie swoops the children into her arms and dramatically peppers both faces with kisses as they squeal and squirm.  William reaches over her, and lifts Will by his thigh and pulls the shrieking 2-yr-old into his own embrace. 

As they all end up in a tangle, Lizzie asks “So where are you all going _this_ morning?”

“Zoo, Dahhie?” asks Will.

“No zoo today, Will.  I thought we would go to Daddy’s work.” He says for Lizzie’s sake, “It has been a while since the kids have been there, and there are some new koi in the Japanese garden that I think they will want to see.”

Anne peers at him over Lizzie’s shoulder, and narrows her eyes in disappointment.  William winks at her, and her eyes widen and she bites her lip as a smile starts.  Winking as an indicator of duplicity is a recently discovered mechanism, and Anne has been using it regularly and blatantly.  “If we have time, maybe we will continue our adventure elsewhere.” 

Anne’s eyes twinkle at him as he makes this announcement.  She doesn’t understand what the mystery is, but revels in the fact that she is part of some sort of secret plot.

 

 

 

They in fact do end up in the Japanese garden at Pemberley, but only after a quick visit to the audio-visual department.  

William’s stature as CEO allows him to feel no guilt as he borrows a high-end video recorder and tripod. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope the William vs Will wasn’t too confusing. I just think their first son would have the same first name as his father, but maybe a different middle name (some old Darcy tradition). And I think that William and Lizzie wouldn’t care for the nicknames Bill or Billy, so “Will” seems the most logical choice IMO. 
> 
> *side note* I never refer to William Darcy as Will in my stories; I always call him William. It is because I have a 6yrold nephew who goes by Will, and it is too strange to write Lizzie/Darcy romance/smut fic using my nephew’s name. So, there.
> 
> Chapter 2 planned to be posted tomorrow!


End file.
